by C. J. Krüger
“Not yet,” I tell her and wrinkle my nose. “It feels wrong to even think about right now.”
“Duncan,” she says, her tone firm. “Arteria has never been without a ruler, and the people need you. Your mother has responsibilities to Kal-Gora and besides, you are the only one suitable to take the throne.”
“Why?” I ask, furrowing my brows and stepping away from her. “If my mother were to take the throne, the Elves and Humans would be under one banner. Is that not a better solution?”
She shakes her head. “I am the guide for our people, directing them to the Lights, but that responsibility was delegated to me by your grandfather. More than any living being I know, he was most attuned to Them. Who else has the kind of connection he shared with Them if not you?”
Try as I might, I don’t see a way to counter her argument. I should be jumping at the chance to be king, but in someways, I’m still the same scared boy who was attending school. “We’ll do it after the funeral,” I concede. “But I want it to be a secret until then, mostly out of respect. And I want to do it in front of the other rulers. Besides my parents, who else has confirmed their attendance to the funeral?”
“That is what I was coming to tell you,” Ayda says. She purses her lips, pausing for a moment. “All of them.”
“You don’t look very pleased by that,” I say, my brow lifting.
“A Dwarf hasn’t been inside Arteria in ten thousand years,” she says bitterly. “They smell, Duncan. Like you wouldn’t believe.”
I laugh. It comes out without my meaning to, but the objection is ridiculous and a little charming. “I’m sure we can invent a spell to block odors, my love.”
“No,” she says flatly. “It’s that potent.”
I chuckle again and wrap my arms around her tightly. “I love you, Aydamaris,” I say softly. “With all of my heart, I love you.”
Her skin flushes and she looks at me with hooded eyes. “My, your Highness, what a thing to say to your priestess. People may get the wrong idea.”
“Let them get the wrong idea,” I whisper and kiss her deeply.
We entangle ourselves in our passion, forgetting for a moment that the world is on the brink of destruction. Only her touch matters to me. That is, until a very loud and rude cough startles us back into the real world.
“Sivandar,” I say mildly. “Good to see you.”
“And you, your Highness,” he replies, his voice cool and without emotion. “I was just coming to let my dear sister know that the final preparations are being made. Also a messenger of Azhrav just arrived. His Imperial Majesty will be arriving within the hour.”
“Thank you, brother,” Ayda says, her tone slightly annoyed. “The three of us will greet him.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, boy,” Sivandar says, his face scrunched up in contempt. “The Emperor of the Sea has longed to take our King’s place. In Diarmuid’s absence he will try to assert his rule.”
I nod. “I know this,” I tell him, ignoring his disrespect. “And the Dark Lady Athreine?”
His face is blank and it takes a moment for him to reply. “To be honest, your Highness, I haven’t the slightest idea. She is a complete mystery.” Though his face has its usual stoniness, his voice is somewhat awed, even reverent.
“What can you tell me about her?” I ask, pressing the subject. I want to know what I am dealing with.
“I’ve only had one chance to meet her, and I can honestly say that of the two, she is your most dangerous enemy.”
* * *
The Emperor of the Sea is an interesting fellow, to say the least. He wears gold and green armor that looks more like the scales of a fish than actual armor. His personality is flamboyant and he does not seem like a threat at all, except that his eyes betray a brutal cunning.
“Prince Duncan, old boy!” he exclaims as he is escorted into the council room, a broad grin on his face. “Sorry to hear about the old man. A terrible loss.”
“I’m sure,” Sivandar mutters.
I almost feel the need to scold him, but a bigger part of me agrees with my weapons master. “It is,” I say firmly and I narrow my eyes sharply. “The world is a darker place without my grandfather in it. Let’s sit down.”
“Truly, your Highness,” the emperor replies, his tone betraying genuine sorrow. He takes a seat and casually puts his feet up on the ancient table. “I’ve never fought a war without him. The idea is totally alien.”
“So you will fight with us?” I ask, somewhat surprised by his eagerness.
“A chance to knock the armies of the Void back to oblivion? You bet my scales I’ll fight with you, your Highness. Besides, you will need my military experience in leading the armies. Only Diarmuid could have done it better.”
Ayda and I exchange a knowing glance. He’s subtler than I imagined, but not that subtle, I project into her mind.
She smiles and replies, but this could work to your advantage. I’ve had dealings with this one a couple of times. Do not speak in haste; even the most innocent of agreements can be taken as an oath.
“Indeed, your Imperial Majesty,” I say evenly, “My armies would benefit greatly from your leadership. Thank you for volunteering.”
Azhrav’s face wavered between looking very pleased with himself and looking slightly confused. “Your armies, your Highness?”
I smile and nod. “That’s right, your Imperial Majesty. Again, thank you for offering your service. We need everyone pulling together in this time of darkness.”
Well played, my love, Ayda says into my mind. I think so, too, and by the look on the Sea Emperor’s face, I’m several points ahead.
“You’re as shrewd as the old man,” Azhrav replies, seemingly pleased for some reason. “Caught me in my own trap.”
“I’m sure his Majesty is just out of practice,” I say gently. “After all, it’s been many years since you had a chance to play at politics.”
“Too right you are,” he agrees and gets more comfortable in his chair. “Truth be told, I never thought I’d see this place again. It brings back old, old memories.”
“Waxing nostalgic is very fine indeed,” Sivandar says pointedly, “but we have much business to attend to. Reports are coming in from the north that portals have been sighted and demons are pouring out by the thousands. Instead of raining down on us, they plan to march, I think.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask, my brows furrowing. “That almost seems like suicide.”
Azhrav sits up, his eyes narrowed. “It’s the old shieldstones,” he explains. “It’s something we did during the second war. The five of us poured our magic into these stones and fashioned citywide shields through them.”
This surprises me and I fold my hands on the table. “And these shields defend from the portals?”
“They defend from a great many things, including those Void Portals. I wish they were totally foolproof, but sadly, we were betrayed in their making. Demons can still enter the cities—it’s just that they have to march in physically or possess someone.”
“Betrayed? By whom?” I ask, my brows knitting together in worry. Who are the five of them? “What cities are protected?” Just what else don’t I know?
“Evron the Sky Lord and Madushka, Mistress of Dreams,” he says bitterly. “Aquaria, Arteria, Ecthelion (Now called Kal-Gora) and Marrowvine still have shieldstones. All the others have been destroyed.”
Ayda gives the Emperor of the Sea a very sharp look and her jaw sets tightly. “King Silverblade called the demon he fought Evron.”
Azhrav takes a deep breath and I can see it’s taking all of his willpower to keep his anger from boiling over. “I’ll pull out that worm’s brain through his nose.”
“I don’t think he exists anymore, your Majesty,” Adya replies, though her tone suggests she would gladly help. “He was swallowed up by a black hole of his own making.”
“He’s alive,” Azhrav says, his green eyes stormy with rage. “Demons can never really be
killed, even if their physical body is destroyed. Their essence is just sent back to the Voidlands.”
“That explains why they can throw away ten thousand or more troops on a siege,” I say, leaning back in my chair and sighing. Fighting a war is difficult enough, but fighting against an enemy that never ends is even worse. “How did my father do this?”
“The Void was just possessing people then,” Sivandar says. “I can’t recall a time before now where demons have ever walked the earth.”
“Your other grandfather discovered the place where King Silverblade locked the demons away, and was trying to break the seal. Your father stopped him before he was able to.”
And now they are walking free because of me. Somehow, I became the new container, I project at Ayda.
This is the will of the Lights, my love. King Silverblade was not capable of destroying the Void—he could only seal it away. I believe it is the Lights’ will that you do what he could not.
I chew on my lip. Doing what Grandfather could not? The idea seems impossible. I’ll do my best.
That’s all that can be expected of you, my heart. I will also be there.
“Is there any news on the seven Dwarf Kings?” I ask solemnly.
“Yes, your Highness,” Sivandar responds, his tone icy. “They will be stinking up the halls later this afternoon, I am sure. Also, your father and mother should be arriving tomorrow.”
“Then we just need Lady Athreine and we can begin putting Grandfather to rest.”
Chapter Four
I can sense the growing horde of demons to the north, and another to the south. Very soon they will outnumber all the armies of the world, and I have no idea what to do. I’ve always known this war would not be won by strength of arms, but the battles will come to us very soon. Even the shieldstones that protect the cities will not halt the invasion.
The morning hours are being wasted away while I stress about things to come. I get out of bed and put on a tunic and pants before wandering the halls of the palace.
There is a great mirror in the main hallway that leads to the throne room. I think Grandfather had it put here so that he had to take a long look at himself before taking his seat. I look at myself in it now and I see how much I have changed. Time stopped for my mind while I was studying with the Lights, but not for my body. Wherever I went while I was with Them, it must have been for much longer than a year. The growth of my body and the changes I see are that of decades, not months or years.
It frightens me to think that I could have been gone for centuries and not even have been aware of it. The Lights are capable of anything, and They just as easily could have sent me to where I was needed.
Does it matter, young Lightheart? A voice asks roughly in my mind.
No, Father Sun, I say and take a deep, steadying breath. I just remember a lot of training and studying and becoming who You want me to be. Who I want to be. It’s just unnerving to come back and see that my body isn’t what I recognize.
It’s a reflection of your inner-self as well, My son, Sol-theron replies, his voice more soothing than normal. You are not the same man who came to Us, but your journey is far from over. We have given you the tools you need. It’s up to you to use them. Put these doubts from your mind. Your Heavenly Mother and I will always be with you.
Thank you. His voice and presence are gone, but I feel renewed and invigorated. Father Sun is correct—worrying about the changes within me isn’t important now. What’s important is getting through Grandfather’s funeral and convincing all the other rulers to join with me without fighting over who’s in charge.
It’s been two days since the Dwarven kings have arrived and my parents as well. Still, there is no sign of the Dark Lady and I fear she will not come. Perhaps it’s for the best. She may not be the ally I’m hoping for. Sivandar might be a grumpy man, but his judgement about people has proven to be correct. The fact that he doesn’t know what to think of Lady Athreine concerns me greatly.
When I step into the throne room, I see a figure standing in the dark, wrapped in a long black cloak with the hood up. I stop and ready myself for a fight—the sensation I get from this figure is one of danger. Who is this? What do they want?
“I will answer your questions,” the figure replies in a soft, ethereal voice. “You need only ask, young Lightheart.”
“How do you know that name?” I ask as I draw my Arkana into myself. “Who are you?”
The figure turns around and draws back the hood. I gasp as I look upon her face. She is clearly an elf but her skin is black as midnight, and her eyes are a seething red. Long, silver hair flows down her back and when she smiles at me I see glinting fangs.
“Lady Athreine,” she replies and bows politely. “I was wondering when you would stop by, your Majesty.”
I’m not the King, I think, my brows furrowing, though I relax my will and approach her cautiously.
“Not yet,” she says darkly. “But you will be.”
You can read my mind? I ask, feeling a bit foolish.
Her smile reveals her fangs again and she nods. “I see many things, Lightheart.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that unless they’re mates,” I say, feeling exposed under her gaze. “Even those who are proficient in peering into a person’s mind can only read the surface.”
The Dark Lady chuckles, her tone smug. “Don’t trouble yourself with the details. What’s important is why you brought us all here. I was very fond of Diarmuid… very fond, and I will miss him very much.”
“We all will,” I say softly, looking at the throne behind her. “I wish there was more time to grieve for him, but even if there was, he would scold us all for taking it.”
She chuckles sadly, the sound eerie and hollow, but not entirely unpleasant. “I think of all the things we will remember about him, the one I will remember the most fondly was his peculiar sense of humor. Although, he was always the closest to our Parents, and Their humor can be quite wicked.”
“I didn’t know you were siblings,” I say as I take a few steps closer. “I guess I knew he had to come from somewhere, but I never gave it too much thought.”
“You would like to know more about him.” Her gaze is penetrating as she speaks, but not hostile or dangerous.
“Should I bother trying to ask, or will you pick the questions up before I get the chance?”
“I’ve learned it’s more polite to let someone ask,” she says, smirking. “If it makes you feel better, I promise not to read your mind unless I feel that you’re lying to me. I don’t care much for being lied to.”
I can see how Lady Athreine and Grandfather are related. “Do you have other siblings?”
She nods. “You met one already,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “And the other took Diarmuid’s life.”
“Azhrav and Evron?” I ask, recoiling in surprise. “That’s what he meant by the five of you.”
Lady Athreine smiles. “It pleases me that you can put things together without too much explanation. Can you guess who our Parents are?”
I narrow my eyes. How could I possibly know? I wrack my brain around all the names I know of famous Elves in history, but even the most ancient of them are young compared to Diarmuid.
“The Lights,” I say, the realization hitting me. It has to be Them and somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. “You are literally children of the Lights.”
“Yes,” she says and looks down. “But no one felt that way more strongly than Diarmuid. Maybe because he was the oldest of us, and born before the war.”
“History doesn’t say anything about the First War.” I look closely at the Dark Lady and wonder how a child of the Lights could end up looking like her. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she feels very much like a demon.
“It’s better that way,” she says, her tone melancholic. “My brother won’t like the idea of you becoming the King of us all, but he will grow to respect you. The Dwarves will feel slighted once again, but they
always have in these affairs. Of course, your birth parents will understand. The sacrifices they made have led up to this moment, and they will obey the will of the Lights.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in your words,” I say pointedly. “Will you contest me?”
I can feel her condescension, but it’s impossible to tell behind her placid face and the red glow emanating from her sockets. “Of course not. My people and I have never been ruled, nor do we wish to rule.”
“So then why are you here at all?”
“Because you will fail without my help,” she says flatly. “What do you know of the Dark Elves, your Majesty?”
“Very little,” I admit. “No one cares to talk much about your people besides how dangerous you are.”
She flashes her fangs. “It’s good to know fear of us still exists despite our lack of presence in worldly affairs.”
“Will you tell me then, or leave me in suspense?” I ask, my patience starting to wear thin. “I know we’re immortal but time isn’t on our side anymore.”
“Be careful not to show your teeth to me before you are ready, your Majesty,” she says, her tone kind but her threat bold. “Thirty thousand years ago, long before Men sailed across the sea, my brother and sister joined forces with the Void. At first we were losing the war and very badly. So I resolved to do something about it.”
My eyes lock with hers and I try to glean some kind of insight, but that angry red glow makes it impossible. “What?”
“I fought fire with fire. A group of my followers traveled with me to the Voidlands and we absorbed raw Darkness into ourselves until we became creatures both of this world and of that one.”
I inhale sharply and the instinct to draw my will is strong. However, the more rational part of me stays my hand. If she wanted to hurt me, she would have tried already. “That’s vile!”
She smiles. “Perhaps,” she says softly before exhaling. “The Moon has two sides, your Majesty—one bathed in light, and the other in constant darkness.”
“So what makes you any different from a demon?” I ask harshly.
